


On the Right Side of the Bed

by QueSeraAwesome



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dakota twins, F/M, Happy threesomes, M/M, Morning After, Multi, Nosy sisters, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent South is not a detective, but she knows her brother. And something is (was) definitely up (last night).</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Right Side of the Bed

North sits down next to South at the breakfast table. He doesn’t say anything, not even “Good morning” or “Hey” or “Dear god, you are going to die, Red Bull is not breakfast, what is wrong with you?” Which is unusual.

South glances at him over the top of her can. Double takes. Slumps in her seat, tipping the now empty can onto the table to roll away pathetically, just like her hopes for a normal morning, or at least one free of bullshit.

"Jesus Christ."

North sets down his cup of orange juice slowly, deliberately, like it takes thinking about, and turns to look at her. His eyes have a kind of distant look to them, like even though she’s right in front of him, his brain is taking a bit of time to catch up. She’s seen that look before. She scowls.

"What?" he asks. Innocently. Hah. Like he doesn’t _know_.

South blows out a breath, making her bangs fly. North smiles at her, a tad dreamily.

"Jesus, at least try to be subtle about it," South says. "You’re practically glowing, you dickmunch."

"I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about," North says, taking a peaceful sip of his orange juice.

"Oh, please," South replies. "Don’t try to hide shit from _me_. Who’d you fuck last night?”

North doesn’t answer, just continues drinking his juice. But the corner of his mouth does curve upward just the slightest bit. That’s all the confirmation she needs.

Now that she’s looking, it’s written all over him. He’s already suited up, (the black undersuit does reach pretty far up his neck, far enough to cover most marks) even though training doesn’t start for an hour. The almost liquid, easy way that he’s moving. Like he got all the bones boned out of him last night.

"Now what would give you that idea, South?" North asks.

The whole “Butter wouldn’t melt” thing would be working a lot better for him if he didn’t look so goddamn pleased with himself.

"Cut the shit," South says. "You got laid. The least you can do if you’re not gonna be quiet about it is to tell me who it was."

North raises his eyebrows at her, keeps drinking his orange juice.

"North. Who’d you fuck."

He avoids her eyes, keeps smiling that annoying ain’t-life-grand smile. South eyes him, takes in the careful, deliberate way he’s sitting.

"Or…who fucked you?"

"I could use some toast," North says, getting up. That smile is a full-blown grin now. "Maybe some fruit. That sounds good."

"I’m gonna find out!" she calls after him. "No one on this fuckin’ ship can keep a secret! You might as well tell me!"

North waves her off, proceeds toward the toaster.

"M’ gonna find out," South mumbles to herself. "The fucker’ll give themself away."

She turns her eyes on the assembled Freelancers, all in various stages of waking up. It’s just a training day, which means to say there’s no killing people today, just training violence, so they have time to let their brains wake up first. Maine, Wash and CT are buddied up at their own table. Wash is telling some kind of story, CT is nodding and Maine may or may not be actually listening. So pretty normal there. No deviations from standard behavior.

She glances at Wyoming and Florida. She doesn’t think her bro would go there but…she takes a closer look, but not too much closer. Don’t want Florida to see her eyeing them, that will not end well. No, it doesn’t even bare thinking about.

But they seem pretty normal. She won’t pretend to know what any of these people are like after sex (with one obvious exception, but she doesn’t think North is exactly the type lesbians go for. But she could be wrong.)

South frowns to herself. Maybe she’s looking at this the wrong way. It wasn’t necessarily a Freelancer who put that dopey grin on her brother’s face. This ship is full of support staff, pilots, medics, soldiers, the works. Hundreds. That would discourage her, except that the ship’s rumor mill is pretty damn efficient, and anyone who bagged a Freelancer would have probably bragged to their whole department by now.

She’s gonna find out. It just might take some time. Maybe as late as lunch.

York stumbles through the door, interrupting her thoughts, and staggers in the direction of the food. North holds out a waiting cup of coffee, a napkin wrapped carefully around so he won’t burn himself on the hot ceramic. But there isn’t anything weird about that. Whoever’s near the food when York arrives will often hand him coffee. Its’ to keep the stupid fuck from knocking everything over trying to get it himself. York takes the mug gratefully and tries to put his whole face in it. Nothing new or suspicious there.

…Except…

York’s moving weird today too. Like it’s taking a little extra time for his nerves to send important messages like “Move the thing. You know. The thing. You’ve got five of them. On the thing. _Hand_.”

North murmurs something to York that makes the guy laugh. He lifts his face out of his coffee cup and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Then his expression goes from sleepy to…almost soft as he looks at North. Not soft. Stupid. That’s the same stupid face he shoots at Carolina all the time. South frowns. She takes in the way their shoulders almost-not-really brush. The twin looseness in their joints as they stand next to each other, the softness around their eyes when they look at each other. Not the kind of thing you would catch if you weren’t looking, but, well, South is looking. Still, she’s not convinced yet. North has always been more affectionate than most with people he was only buddies with and not buddy-buddy or buddy-fucking with. Then York leans back against the counter and— _winces_.

_Bingo_. South thinks.

North’s making a concernedface, but one he’s trying to be quiet about. York laughs it off, makes some sort of quiet comment that makes North snort in reply. York leans back against the counter again, but gingerly this time. North finishes his juice, and throws the paper cup in the trash. The napkin fell off York’s mug sometime during the exchange. And North, because her brother is a fucking boy scout, bends to pick it up. Stalls. _Winces_. York laughs.

Oh yeah, they totally were fucking last night. Except they’re _both_ —

Carolina hits the door like a freight train, blowing the doors open. She’s got her helmet off, and there’s practically a skip in her step. She’s smiling, which is to say her teeth are visible and she looks pleased as well as lethal. Everyone stops eating to look at her as she rocks to a stop in the middle of the room, surveying the group. When her eyes land on North and York, that smile shifts into a smirk.

"I want to see everyone on the training floor in twenty minutes," Carolina says, eyes glinting a little madly. "We’re gonna have some _fun_ today.”

She grabs a handful of power bars and a bottle of water off the counter and bounds out of the room.

South stares, mouth open.

"She’s chipper this morning," Wash comments.

North starts to laugh quietly, hand ineffectually covering his smile.

South’s forehead hits the tabletop. At speed.

**Author's Note:**

> QueSeraAwesome.tumblr.com people


End file.
